Page 38

This had nothing to do with hopes and dreams anymore.

‘So they survived.’ My voice had gone rough. ‘If they lived long enough … if at least one of them lived long enough to leave this here …’

My eyes met Creon’s, and whatever I’d been about to say dissolved into the red-hot burst of sparks erupting in my lower belly. His smile may have been a predator’s smile on the surface, but that fervour burning below was far more than a mere hunter’s drive – a gleam of longing that turned the ink black of his eyes into smouldering embers and left me incapable of breathing for two full heartbeats.

He hadn't dared to hope before.

My body grew hot, triumph mingling with a flare of frustration. Gods be damned, why did we have to make this discovery in this cursed place, surrounded by travel companions who’d surely raise some eyebrows if I were to tear off his clothes for a fitting celebration?

And how long had I stood here staring at him already?

Naxi was stifling a fit of giggles behind a bright pink sleeve. Not a good sign. I tore my gaze away from Creon, forcing myself to focus on the inscription, and managed, ‘Well.’ To hell with the stutter in my voice. ‘That gives us something to look for, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Tared said slowly, but there was no relief in his voice. ‘So it seems.’

What had he hoped for? That after two days in this place, I would realise the folly of my plans and agree to return home and play the impeccable saviour to a bunch of frightened nymphs for the rest of the war?

Or … I caught the steely glint in his eyes as his gaze slid towards Creon, and again my heart skipped another beat, for far more unpleasant reasons. Or was I the problem again, doing an impressively terrible job at hiding just how much the presence of an unreasonably beautiful fae murderer affected me?

‘Um,’ I said, clearing my throat as if that might erase my latest mistake. ‘Should we get on our way, then?’

Neither of them reacted. Tared had tilted his head a fraction, studying Creon with squinted eyes as if the truth of his intentions was written in the ink under his skin. And suddenly I was nothing but a bystander in this silent war of looks and unspoken accusations, caught in the middle of Creon’s menacing indifference and the glacial sheet of Tared’s fury at whatever he’d found in my moment of ill-advised swooning.

Naxi was no longer giggling.

‘Tared …’ Lyn started.

He didn’t look away. The tension grew tangible, shimmering like heat on a summer’s day – waiting for a last spark, a last nudge towards the point of eruption.

Creon raised a scarred eyebrow. An invitation, a challenge … as if hewantedthis mess to blow up.

Oh, damn him, damn the both of them. I lurched a single step forward, feeling like a pair of scales about to tip disastrously in one direction – gravity pulling on either side of me, wishes and demands and endless expectations.Stop it, I could tell Tared.I’m madly in love with him.He’s not the villain you believe he is.But he’d think me a silly child at best and an unscrupulous flirt at worst, and with ten days to go …

I tipped the other way.

‘Are the two of you done?’ There was more sting to my words than intended. I turned my back on Creon with all the disinterest I could muster and strode towards Tared, forcing him to avert his eyes. ‘We should be going if we want to reach those woods before nightfall.’

‘Em,’ Tared said, his voice low. He didn’t move. He barely moved his lips.

‘What?’ I said sharply, imitating that quiet, menacing tone. ‘I’mnot the one who can’t seem to look away from him right now, am I?’

Unsubtle, but effective enough. Surprise stiffened his features for the blink of an eye; then a sour smile broke through, accompanied by what looked like relief. ‘Brat.’

‘Not an idiot, though.’ I gave a little scoff. ‘Is it really that hard to believe I’m not going to run off with someone who’d hurt me?’

He hesitated a last moment, then sighed, nodded, and turned to Beyla, who alone had ignored the threatening eruption with what I thought was commendable disregard. ‘Anything we need before we start moving?’

Beyla’s answer was short and boiled down to a “no”. Every fibre of me itched to hurry back to Creon as if nothing had happened and resume our conversation on divine inscriptions … but Edored was still giving me puzzled glances, and I’d spent enough training sessions trying to surprise Tared to know he would notice.

I limited myself to a quick glance over my shoulder. Creon’s dark eyes were unreadable, his face a perfect, impassive mask.

He would understand, wouldn’t he?

He’d have to, I decided with a pang of annoyance; we didn’t have any better options, and if he wanted to make a point of getting on Tared’s nerves, he could deal with the consequences, too. So I steeled myself, ignored Lyn’s look of obvious concern, and wandered off to the west of the crater, looking for the path Agenor had mentioned.

It wasn’t hard to find, and the state of it did nothing to improve my already fickle mood. Thorny vines and explosions of nettles had crawled over the once-level flagstones, rendering much of the way impassable. Three hours to the woods, Agenor had said, but that had been before the woods decided to claim the roads for themselves. If we had to fight our way through this mess all the way to our destination, we’d be lucky if we arrived before sunset.

Which meant I’d be lucky if I got to speak with Creon in private before the end of the day, too.